


Leave the Hat on

by WildBurr



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cops, Fear, Just look it up on TV Tropes, M/M, Magic-Users, Officer Bunnymund, Pooka - Freeform, That means fantasy people. racism is NOT cool., Trope - Fantastic Racism, Undercover Frost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6467116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildBurr/pseuds/WildBurr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he pulled in the preturnaturally pale and dealing Jack Frost, he didn't expect to be chewed out for ruining a bust two years in the making.</p><p>He didn't expect to be partnered up with the, surprisingly older than he thought Winter.</p><p>He most certainly didn't expect to end up in bed with him either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is really all just World building right now, if you have any questions feel free to ask!
> 
> No, seriously, I'm stupidly geeky when it comes to tiny stupid details when I create a world, so ask away!

Aster rolled his eyes as he pushed the perp in front of him to the front desk, nodding at the iridescently feathered dispatch officer in passing. The near white skinned youth had started babbling as soon as he was locked in the car, asking what the hell he was doing and if he knew who he was.

Street scum like him were always like that when they got a dose of power, thinking they were some big shot just because they slipped a few bags here and there. The lagomorphic cop just let his voice melt into background noise as he steered them both to the holding cell waiting for pushers like him.

He had to admit though, as angry as he was at the kid for selling, he had some pity for him too. A kid his age wouldn't get caught up this deep in the vile trade if he didn't have other options open.

Signing him in and passing him over to the rookies managing the cells, Aster headed to his desk to start the worst part of the job.

Bloody paperwork.

The pens used by the precinct were designed for the more ape-like humans than his kind, but then again this far north pretty much everything was. Paperwork was more of a chore than the actual beat itself, his constant erasing and occasionally grabbing a new report sheet leading to several snide, chuckling comments his _delightful_ colleagues thought he couldn't hear.

His kind, the Pooka, were pretty much a rarity above the equator, far more content to remain in the warmer regions and their ancestral homes of Australia. For most, the giant aboriginal hares were the stuff of legend, exporting rare, often mystical goods for some basic supplies and the occasional luxury item. With their own lands and own laws, most were content to stay home.

Aster was different. Always had been.

For starters, even among the Pooka he was gifted. A powerful Spring that could see him the head of any Warren he chose. Deserts would bloom for him if he wished it, and such gifts were always in demand.

He wasn't the biggest fan of what he was expected to do. Find a couple of does, build a Warren, forever a slave to the demands of his people to use his gift...

He probably wouldn't have minded so much if he was given any choice in the matter. All the prestige and honour he could want in exchange for everyone deciding everything for him.

No thanks.

He left before he could be snared, with only the gear he was wearing and the gifts at his fingertips.

And then he found out the Northern Folk had something against nudity. Live and learn, right?

Thankfully, the law keeper who pulled him in, officer Mansnoozie, was an understanding sort, who took time to explain the laws and reasons behind them using his own brand of telepathy, a kind of dreaming Gift that at times felt more realistic than the waking world itself.

Five years later, he was the first Pookan cop, uniform and all, specially tailored for his needs. Though he'd be lying if he ever called the damn thing comfortable.

He and Sanderson still spoke often, the natural nocturnal golden male dividing his attention expertly between Waking and Dreaming worlds.

There were only two other people in the entire town who he considered to be friends. Both strangers to the country, both Gifted. One human, one not.

Tooth, also known as Queen by some of the officers on patrol, was the only other non human on the force. Some kind of avian from the lush jungles to the east. Apparently she left for a similar reason to his own, escaping an arranged marriage, only the glittering young women had her family's support behind her.

She arrived with a little sister in tow, which her felliw cops adopted as their unofficial mascot, affectionately nick naming her "baby tooth". She could usually be found in the offices, fluttering awkwardly on wings too small to properly lift her, carrying messages here and there in exchange for pocket change or treats. But no Sugar. At all

Not since the _incident._

The feathered woman was a goddess at the dispatch desk, juggling dozens of patrols, cars, emergency vehicles and knew each and every one by name, gift if any, and where they were at _any_ given time.

Many had attempted to match her. Very few had even came close without risk of caffine poisoning.

The other friend _(rival?)_ was the police chief himself, S. Nicholas North, a Winter whose gift manifested as providing exactly what was needed, when it was needed.

Not that it was always obvious. He could try for keys to handcuffs and come out with a blowtorch. Useful for the ice spitting perp they ran into five minutes later. Or when he attempted to produce a birthday present for a member of staff and came out with a pregnancy test.

Which, while awkward for everyone involved, really was her greatest birthday gift so far as she and her husband had been trying for years.

An easygoing sort, most of the rookies treated him like some joke behind his back. The more experienced shook their head at their naivety, making office pools as to when the next time the "bandit king" would make an appearance.

The pair had the type of friendship that could be mistaken for hatred from the outside, constantly snipping, putting down the other's Gift and forever locked in a state on one-upmanship that came to utterly ridiculous levels around their seasonal holidays.

Still, he was the boss, and for good reason. The man was an expert strategist and treated his men, and pooka, well.

So it was to the surprise of everyone when the bear of a man bellowed from his office in near firey rage.

"Bunnymund! My office! _Now_!"

Dropping the cursed tiny pen on the desk and rubbing the cramp out of his hand, he crossed the rows of desks, ignoring the whispers, the sly comments and the occasional chuckle with practiced ease.

Just background noise.

Flexing his hand into a fist and back several times, he pushed the door open, grumbling out.

"Ah'm 'ere boss, what's all th' fuss about?"

He almost did a double take as the lad he pulled in two hours ago relaxed in front of the Cheif's desk, his feet crossed on the table, looking decidedly bored. North swiftly pulled his attention back when he slammed his palm onto the table, his rosy cheeks a deep, inferno red.

"Aster. Explain why exactly you saw fit to near compromise the cover of one of our undercover men?"

The pooka stared, dumbfounded before glancing over at the smirking teen as he popped his collar, revealing the small button badge of the undercover crew.

"I tried to tell you Cottentail..."


	2. Magic & Gifts, a guide

**iIntroductory documentation for the Burgess City Police Department (BCPD)** **  
**

_**Magic and Gifts** _

\-----

Magic is the essential energies that permeate the world, along with such mundane examples as heat and chemical.

As officers of the BCPD, you will be expected, if not outright required, to deal with these forces and those who use them.

First of all, the basics.

Everyone, man, woman and child, can, with the correct tools, manipulate magical forces.

Luckily, your training will have covered not only techniques to use of your own, but a variety of anti-magic tricks to take the wind out of any potential perp's sails. This will include, but are not limited to:

\- Protective runes sewn into your uniform. Please ensure these runes are kept maintained and up to date.

\- Your PDA, linked to the national database, is full of the most up to date anti curse, hex and glamour spells. Refer to it often. Please note, anyone caught attempting to download MP3 files onto it will be reprimanded (See 1968 Easter Incident).

\- Silver naturally grounds magic in the same way iron grounds electricity. Your baton, silver with a detachable rubber sheath, can dispel most protective charms and counter few offensive tricks. This will be your first weapon against the criminal element. You will also be issued a firearm with silver rounds. Please remember this is your last resort.

\- For those of you especially adept at magic weaving, you will also be issued a field kit suited for your speciality, Offensive, Defensive, Trickery or Restorative. Please see the guides included within these kits for more info.

Remember, preparation and forethought are your greatest weapons. Do not be caught unaware.

\-----

_**The Gifts** _

As you know, there are some who are born with a higher than normal tie to the magical energies of the world. These people are known as the Gifted, and currently stream from four sources, named after the seasons.

Typically, the younger these Gifts manifest themselves, the stronger their power will be.

Gifted have the potential to be extremely powerful, however, due to the severe overspecialization of their magical energies, Gifted are unable to perform even the most simplistic of spells not within their Gift. This leaves then at a disadvantage should someone spot a flaw in their techniques. To date, it is natural to pair a Gifted with a normal officer to compensate.

The four "Seasons" of Gifts are as follows.

\- Spring.

The Restorative season. Spring Gifted personify the greatest of healing and natural energies within themselves. These may manifest in a number of ways, from straight out healing, augmentation of natural features, animation of inanimate objects and limited control of flora.

Out of all the Gifted, the Spring are perhaps the most vulnerable, and sought after. There have been many cases of abduction, kidnapping, and even childhood conditioning into turning these gentle healers into emotionless robots to do the bidding of others.

If you come across a Spring Gifted during your duties, ensure you provide them with your full protection and attention.

-Summer.

The most offensive of the Gifted, they coalesce the sheer, raw destructive properties of magic within themselves. Their Gifts may manifest in a number of ways, both subtle and obvious, such as fiery explosions, to summoning thunderstorms, to conjuring weaponry.

A Summer Gifted is not to be underestimated, as seemingly innocent as their ability may be. Each and every one has the potential to cause great harm if given reason. For that reason, a minimum of three officers are required to approach a Summer regardless of reason, for the safety of the public in general.

\- Autumn (or Fall as some refer them as)

These Gifted are masters of the ways of defense. Perhaps the calmest and most common of the Gifted, they embody the sheer determination required to weather any assault and come through the other side intact

An Autumn can become a veritable juggernaut, an unmovable object under the right conditions. Abilities range from almost iron hard skin to incredible dense bones, to sheer, unbreakable wards and walls.

You are no doubt thinking these Gifted would be the easiest to contend with, and you would be vastly mistaken. A powerful Autumn can shield you from everything. Even the air around you. Or the effects of gravity. Never underestimate your opponent.

\- Winter

The Winter Gifted are perhaps the least trusted of the four types of Gifted. Their innate talent manifests not with outright brute force, or endurance, or healing. Their strength lies in deceit, subterfuge, sabotage and underhanded tactics.

Some of you may remember certain Winters during your studies. The Snow Queen, who confused friend and foe. Corvo, who disgraced or disappeared several heads of state while remaining unseen. Or the Silent Step, who ended wars before they even began.

Thankfully, Winters are among the rarest of Gifted. If you must approach one, you are authorized to use whatever force you deem justified.

\- Rumours

There have been tales of a "fifth" Gifted among the criminal underworld. One whom can take the Gift of others and corrupt them.

What we will tell you is the same as every reporter who latches onto the story. There has never been a "Dark" Gifted, and there never will be. Ignore such superstitious nonsense and stick to the facts. These will see you right every time.

 

For more information, please collect booklets from your Training department in a variety of topics, from politics, history and culture, with the ultimate aim of arming yourself against any unforseen events that may come your way.

Remember, forewarned is forearmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll stick to this "official" format for world info...
> 
> We will have an alternating chapter scene, story then info, and hopefully the info will correspond with what will happen in the next chapter :p
> 
> So please, go ahead and request what "pamphlet" our cops will read next.
> 
> For the record;
> 
> North - Winter  
> Jack - Winter  
> Aster - Spring  
> Tooth - Summer  
> Sandy - Autumn
> 
> And yes, blatant racism relating to Spring and Winter? I'm sure that wont turn up at a later date :p


	3. Chapter 3

Aster still wasn't quite sure how he found himself in the smallest of the precinct's meeting room, awkwardly squirming on the dull grey, hard plastic chairs that no one ever found comfortable.

One minute North was yelling, then the kid (Jack he had learnt) grinning and flashing his badge, and then...

A lot of noise and several quick phone calls later, and he was sandwiched in between Sanderson, yawning after being woken not two hours after his night shift ended, and someone from internal affairs. To be honest, he had already forgotten her name.

The hall was packed, yet oddly silent as Jack waited up front, still exuding that slacker, yet deep aura that had caught his attention on patrol in the first place. Soon however, North and another nameless face from the Vice Squad set themselves up on the front desk.

"Jack... You are aware you've been silent for the last two dead drops? We were about to send someone after you."

If the suit had thought this would phase the young lad, he was firmly mistaken. Instead he gave a loud sigh and pushed off the table, barely sparing a glance.

"Yes, and I'm sure my requests for back up in the last two messages are still going through PR."

The look he gave the man spoke far more than his words. He hadn't expected his requests to be taken seriously at all.

Clasping his paws in front of him, Aster rested his chin on them, elbows settled into his thighs in a familiar pressure. Would they care if he moved the chair to the side and just hunched down? Regardless, he leaned in, ears pricking to catch everything, said and unsaid.

"Your previous correspondence gave us no reason to-"

With sheer, otherworldly grace, the pale lad twisted and sat on the desk in front of the marker board, chin in hand, his expression yawning bored, but his eyes...

Aster saw eyes like that before... In the rare mirrors back home, after his Gift was confirmed.

"You thought I was pulling a prank or some shit. Listen Terry, I don't give a fuck what you think, 'cos A) Personnel Resources will look into it, and B)..."

He moved his hand from his chin to his mouth, starting to cough, then retch, his throat bulging slightly. Aster was moments from leaping up to help when something glimmering came from between his lips, plucked by milk white fingers. His free hand rubbed at his throat with a mildly pained look to his face as he set the diamond on the desk, where it stood perfectly on edge.

"A Winter..." Barely aware he had muttered out loud, even if it was only under his breath, he grunted as Sanderson nodded, covering his mouth as he yawned once more.

"I finally have a sample of the next thing to hit the streets... People, I give you... _Fearling_."

He held up the glittering shard to the light, and now he could see the dirty flecks within... Dancing within the ice, almost like it was alive, beating and twisting, like a snake caught in a jar.

"And if you believe nothing else I say... Trust me, the last thing we need is for this crap to reach the scum of the world."

\---------

North grimaced as Jack rattled off the list of effects the black dust held, supported by the wireless camera he kept encased in ice, allowing him to pull it back up from his stomach at any point. Simply put, the stuff was both a weapon and the control for that weapon.

There have always been Snake Oil salesmen offering pills, potions and exercise videos designed to increase one's magical capabilities. Either out of a need for compensation, reassurance, or to add a little oomph into whatever you needed magic to achieve.

Thankfully, they had all proven false.

Until now.

He had recorded footage of men and woman performing multiple spells before their dose, convulsing afterwards in a way that couldn't be anything but painful, and then...

"Bullshit! I don't know what game you're playing _Frostbite_ , but tampering with evidence is-"

North rumbled, just loud enough for Terry to hear, slipping a hand into his empty pocket, pulling out... Hmm, looks like a safety deposit key.

"I'm sure I didn't hear you use such a vulgar term, did I Terry?"

The man glanced at the key and clenched his jaw, the colour draining from his cheeks slightly.

"Sir, i-"

"Terry? Shut up."

The suitably cowed man sat down, continuing to glare at Jack as North invited him to continue, memorising the number on the key ring for later inquiry, stuffing it back into his pocket. It would vanish as soon as he pulled his hand out.

Bouncing the ice container in his hand, Jack dropped the worse you, causing even the normally silent Snoozy to splutter in disbelief.

"Jack... Are you certain?"

The young man looked exhausted as he set the sample down, rubbing his face tiredly.

"Three confirmed recordings, plus two additional eye witness reports from myself. People... As much as I hate to say it... This stuff is giving grown men and women... Gifts."

\--------

Aster nursed at the cheap office coffee in his hands, trying to block out the incessant chatter from the rest of the officers in the hall, chewing over recent revelations in his mind.

The only redeeming aspect of this stuff was its short lifespan, the "fearling" burning through the body quickly. However, Jack had reported the fact that the junkie never received the same gift with each dose and that it was cripplingly addictive. A terrifying combination.

Whoever controlled this stuff would end up with a dangerous and desperate army in their hands. Crimes committed by a Gifted would be impossible to track if you cant tell who's a natural and who's been dosed up.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the taker had to ingest more of the stuff each time to get the same effect. Jack hadn't seen anyone go through withdrawal yet, but the idea that he, and quite possibly a great deal of others, would start seeing it soon made his stomach drop into a bottomless pit.

Downing the rest of the rancid brew, be tossed the paper cup and made his way to the front desk, mentally sighing. Apologies never came easy for him.

He came up just in time to watch him remove another iced over item, grimacing.

"Now, that's gotta hurt mate..."

Jack rolled his eyes slightly as he pulled another surveillance device out of his mouth and onto a perforated tray over a bucket. With a tap, the ice melted, allowing technicians to retrieve the collected evidence.

"Its a Gift." He muttered, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Besides, any discomfort is just me looking for sympathy, right?"

Without another word he strode off, rubbing his throat as he headed for the restrooms, leaving Aster to mull over his words.

"Leave him be Bunnymund. It takes a while to build the shields back up."

The large bear of a man settled in next to him, arms folded and looking down, his lips barely moving. North was one of the few who knew just how sensitive Pookan hearing was, and meetings in the open like this were far easier for it, even if Aster couldn't respond in kind.

"Winters... Well, you know how it is. Or, well, I guess you dont, but you get the idea."

The hare's expression remained unchanged, but an ear gave a subtle flick. Taking that as a sign, he went on.

"Jack's still young enough to think he can gain respect by being a model citizen. He does everything right, by the book, and I'll swear blind that he has duplicates hidden in safe houses around the city. But he won't, because of what he is."

He glanced over, an understanding expression on his face.

"Like it or not, he needs someone to watch his back. We'll go over the details later, but I want you in that position."

A pair of flicks, one deeper than the other, questioning. North took a long sip of coffee before turning, flicking through paperwork.

"You're an unknown element. I know you well enough that you'll pull through. And Jack has... History with his Gift. Common ground."

Twitch. Twitch. Flick. Swivel.

"Yes, yes... I've read his file, trust me, it was that bad. Look, people are starting to wonder why you never weave a spell. There's only so much I can do. Jack will help, if you trust him."

Two short, shallow flicks.

"Just think about it. Right now he's raw, he doesn't like being that open about the Gift. Try him tomorrow."

Picking up a report, the man left Aster to stew in his own thoughts, rubbing at his face, suddenly feeling as tired as Sandy looked. The sun had set an hour ago, officially earning the Pooka fife hours overtime, and a nice cosy nest sounded good right now.

But first, all that bad coffee had to go somewhere.

The stalls were empty bar one, his inhuman hearing picking up suppressed sobs, his twitching nose registering salt. Carefully, he made his way to the next stall over, unzipping.

The silence broke and refroze without word from either of them, Aster scrubbing at the opposite wall, glancing over his shoulder through the mirror. Thinking back to North's words, he gave a soft sigh and reached for one of his pouches after he dried his fur as well as the weak blow dryers could manage.

\---------

It wasn't the best place to have a breakdown, true, but he didn't feel up to the long drive to the nearest safe house. Technically, he was still undercover, so the comforts of home, hiding out in the freezer with his good friends Ben and Jerry, were a distant, comforting dream.

It had scared a few people how easily he was able to switch off, face locking into place, waterworks suspended, not ended, without aid of his Gift. Those who knew his history gave him a pitying look. Those who lived it gave an understanding one.

Either way, no one ever reached out for him.

So the furry arm hanging over the stall door was certainly a new Experience.

Something rolled between dull grey fingers as a thick accent came from behind the door.

"Menthol an' selected herbs mate. Usually used fer soothin' choke victims, but ah guess it'll help yer neck jus as well."

A good, solid five minutes passed and the arm made no move to pull back. With a groan of annoyance, he reached up, snatching the green marbled disc. Ignoring the soft brush of fur.

Wordlessly he sat back down and the arm withdrew. Five more minutes passed in silence, only broken by the erratic grunts and complaints of the plumbing.

"Ye know... Ah get it. Really. Folk tend t' see th' Gift first, ah get that. Jus'..."

A deep sigh came from behind the door, and the slight clicking of claws on tiles headed for the door, pausing only to add a few more words.

"Don't let th' wankers get ye down... We'd never have caught that shit 'till it was too late wi'out ye. Wether they admit it or not, ye saved a load o' lives. So... Uh... Shit, ah dunno... Thanks? An' great work."

Fingertips drummed against the wall before a palm slapped onto it, door hinges squeaking.

"Ah'll see ye t'morrow... Jackie boy."

The hinges let out a tortured squeal as the door slid closed once more, ending in a dull thud. Carefully, he examined the lozenge before tossing it into his mouth, a cool wave slowly spreading out.

He coughed with a soft smile as his eyes began to leak again.

"Menthol, huh? Thanks Cottentail."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm leaving the next "pamphlet" up to you!
> 
> You can either choose from the list below, or nominate something else... Whichever gets most comments will be next!
> 
> \- The Pooka.  
> \- The Udaan. (Tooth's people)  
> \- Basic History.


	4. The Pooka - A Guide

_**introductory documentation for the Burgess City Police Department (BCPD)** _

**The Pooka**

**\-----**

The native species of the continent of Australia, the Pooka are still by and large a poorly understood people. Their habit of constructing all dwellings they require underground, along with a near mythical talent for weaving spells into almost everything they own had kept the lagomorphic race hidden for a whole ten years after Australia was colonised in the early 1800s.

First contact was a rather touchy affair, as they had viewed us, unseen, for ten years as invaders claiming their territory. Meanwhile the first settlers had came across a few young ones playing above ground and saw them as a source of fresh meat.

To date, the Pooka still refuse to share meals with humans.

\-----

After a long and drawn out war involving guerilla tactics, knowledge of the local area and its dangers and a shockingly effective assault on one of the larger settlements, resulting in the only human city to have been occupied by a non-human race, a tentative peace was brokered in 1879, in which the British Empire agreed to no more expansion of their initial settlements, in return for lucrative trade in the powerfully enchanted items the Pooka made on a day to day basis.

The result of this trade expanded the reign of the British Empire by a further Fifty Years according to some researchers.

However, it was only a mere few decades ago that the declining Empire finally signed away the official ownership of the land, Australia and its natives declaring themselves as their own sovereign state in 1956.

\-----

Within the continent, the Pooka outnumber Humans at ten to one easily, as very few are allowed to immigrate to the region without prior invitation. Other non human races, such as the winged Udaan, are given more flexibility.

Interspecies relations are a tentative affair, as many feel no need to involve themselves with affairs beyond their lands. Some young Bucks and Does however travel abroad out of sheer curiosity. As they have willingly left their Warrens to satisfy their own inquisitiveness, they are exempt from all Diplomatic issues, and cannot contact their own people for assistance. Strictly speaking, a Pooka becomes subject to all laws set by the country they step foot on, with exception of diplomats.

\-----

**Pookan Lifestyle**

A Pooka will only ever introduce themselves by an initial, a middle (or public) name that all may use, and a clan name. Some Pooka who have left their homes may give up the latter and adopt a name suitable for the country they are exploring.

At no point will a Pooka divulge their first name. Only Parents and Spouces will ever learn it, and will never say it out loud.

 

On the matter of Spouces, the Pooka usually practice a form of polygamy, with an alpha Buck and several Does. It is not uncommon for other, beta Bucks to be involved also.

Anthropologists have discussed this trait at length (much to the amusement of the race in question), and tentatively hypothesise that the deadly fauna and flora of their homeland prompted them to gather in large groups to ensure all young are taken care of. Should a Buck fall, another will take his place, either from outside the Warren, or one of the beta Bucks, should there be any.

This aspect of their racial identity have left them with a rather relaxed outlook on life, and nudity is the norm as opposed to a taboo as it is here. Intimate relations are also common between Bucks and Does and members of the same sex, especially between Alpha and Beta Bucks.

Although documented cases are rare, its possible a Pooka would extend the same familiarity and closeness to a human, if they were comfortable enough in their company. This rarely results in anything of a romantic nature however, as they see intercourse as we would understand it as something akin to a human playing sports with their friends. True, reproductive, or romantic intercourse is one of the many secrets the Pooka hide from outsiders.

\-----

**Pookan Enchantment**

Although magical science has progressed tremendously over the past few decades, there is no denying that the Pooka will always be far more advanced in application, variety and subtly in the art of Enchanting and rune working.

If the few responses we have received are to be believed, they had begun binding magic into items at least two hundred years before our earliest estimates. And, unlike the rather obvious glow that comes from Western "brute force" methods, no pookan enchanted item announces itself so blazingly.

This gives the Pooka the obvious advantage of surprise and doubt. Any item in their possession could be (and usually is) enchanted, with no manner of knowing what type or strength.

Unsurprisingly, Enchanting is one of the most well kept secrets the Pooka possess, and there are many who would do anything, no matter how vile, to learn it.

_Amendment_

_Officer E. Bunnymumd, our only Pookan officer to date, has reviewed and updated a few notes within our "Enchantedly Armed Assailants" chapter in our guidebooks. While he has not divulged any of his kinds techniques, he has informed us how to spot certain weaknesses with Western Enchantment that we can exploit. Be sure to refer to this update at your earliest convenience._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is, The Pooka.
> 
> I tried to play up the tribal nature of native Australians with what I've learnt about the Pooka from the books (a planet that makes Australia look tame, yikes!), and tried to fit it into what we know about humans...
> 
> Not a pretty picture, but I guess its improving?
> 
> Anyway, I thought I'd add a touch of Fae to them, hence the underground and natural talent for magic. Please, tell me what you think, or ask anything you'd like more info on!


	5. Chapter 5

The Sun was slowly creeping across the floor of the cramped office, the steady tick of the clock melting away seconds, minutes and hours into an incomprehensible blur.

Morning shift had yet to clock in, and yet North sat in his desk, motionless for the past hour, save for the turning of the pages of the file in front of him. The photo was less than flattering, but the grey fur was unmistakably that of their sole furry officer. The commendation section alone took up the majority of the paperwork, from a medal of valour for saving five of his fellow cops at great personal risk, to his distinguished service award for the highest number of dealers and pushers brought in. Not to mention the dozens of class B and C awards he had gathered, devoting himself utterly to the job.

Perhaps to an unhealthy extent. If he wasn't sleeping or eating, he was in patrol, doing paperwork or involving himself in yet another stupid risk to his own life.

North didn't get to be head of the BCPD for nothing. And Aster wasn't stupid. It was a given that, one day, maybe soon, maybe not, he would be exposed as a Spring. If he was able to point to the sheer tonnage of medals and commendations, maybe he would convince them he really did belong on the streets.

Yes, Aster was not stupid. But tragically, incredibly naive.

The hulking man sighed and ran his fingers through his greying hair, sliding another file on top of Aster's.

The first page was a mugshot and felony list. Smuggling, theft, a few fist fights...

_"Pretty tame for a Frostbite."_

He almost fired the man on the spot before deciding it wasn't worth the hassle. He could do more for Winters as an impartial and fair police chief than an argumentative "bleeding heart" sympathizer... It was amazing how often they forgot he was a Winter himself.

The next few years on his file were redacted, at North's orders. There was far too much sensitive information on the lad if you knew where to look, from who he had been affiliated to, the gang he betrayed, his real name...  Enough info for someone to try putting a silver bullet through his skull.

But he thrived. Most of his work was classified, but he more than made up for it with his winning personality and uncanny memory for personal information, allowing him to be one of the most likeable undercover agent going. It was just a shame he hardly had opportunity to interact with the regular cops... The annual police ball would have been a riot.

He laid the closed over files side by side, glancing from one department photo to the next. His Gift was adamant that these two needed to be together, but as usual his belly was incredibly vague as to why. Nevertheless, he followed it without pause. It had never let him down before, and certainly wouldn't now.

A knock stirred him out of his thoughts, rumbling a gruff "enter" as he lifted the folders, watching as Tooth glided in effortlessly, closing the door begin her. As soon as they were safe from prying eyes, she relaxed, landing on her feet and allowing a few more natural acts to slip through.

"We're you here all night again?"

His wordless sigh was answer enough, the loud cracking of his neck as he twisted and stretched adding vivid exclamation points. Shaking her head, she flirted round behind him, pressing hands on his shoulders and soothing the tense muscles.

"Bahana missed you at story time...  _Sister!_  She cried, _Where is Brother North?!_ "

The greying man gave a short chuckle, tilting his head back to stare into emerald eyes, letting out a soft sigh of wonder, as always. Gently, he reached up to pat her hand on his shoulder, straightening his body.

"I will make it up to her this evening, I promise. Now, about why you are here so ungodly early..."

He grinned at her quip about morning people and easily slipped into that familiar half-formal tone while they were at work, explaining his instincts and plan.

\-----------------

Aster ran sensitive fingertips over the grain of his pair of boomerangs, mapping out nicks and dents that he would need to polish out later, tapping his foot against the floor in boredom.

He was supposed to be in a meeting with the chief and Jack two hours ago, but neither of them seemed to have the courtesy to arrive when promised. The coffee machine down the hall called out to him, but he really couldn't stomach any more gods awful coffee. He had been tempted to bring his own loose leaf mixtures for a while, but the less to out him the better.

Just as he was debating heading to the track for a few laps, he heard a muffled argument, ears twitching. North and Jack. Agitated. No... scared. The younger male was twitchy in his speech, even if he couldn't pick up individual words down halls and through doors. Twirling the rune covered wood in his hands, he slid them back into his belt, lightly brushing over the enchantments woven into it. The familiar touch of home calmed his nerves slightly as he made his way to meet them along the way. Something in the air didn't smell right, less an obvious scent and more of a sensation of sheer... wrongness.

He met the two at the doorway, giving the chief a brief nod, falling into step behind them.

"Look, I know how it sounds, but I'm telling you, the safe houses are compromised..."

North hissed for him to keep his voice down, directing the pair into his office, absent-mindedly tapping the runes on the door frame, muttering about decent wards. As the pale glow crept over the door, skirting, Windows and roof beams, Aster felt the unsettling sensation fade, the runes flashing brightly once and calming to a dull, barely noticeable glow as the room was completely cut off from the outside world.

The man knew his magic, for all that he was, supposedly, unable to cast anything of his own. The curiosity sparked up inside of him, as always, and with practiced ease he suppressed it. Everyone had their secrets. He had plenty he wouldn't want North sticking his nose into, so he respected the man's right to privacy also.

Jack slumped into one of the chairs as the ward settled, rubbing at his face, the tension escaping him like a rubber band, leaving him limp and visibly exhausted. His unkempt hair was more messy than "stylish", his casual appearance from the day before edging into "hobo" style. Without bothering to ask, he pulled three mugs from the chief's cabinet and nicked the  _good_ coffee grounds where the, now flustered man, thought he had hid them.

"Awright Jackie boy... calm down... Lets hear it from the top..."

The snow haired Winter sighed and squirmed on the chair in an effort to keep himself comfortable.

"Well... it started when I headed back to one of the safe houses..."

\----------------

The streetlights flashed overhead as Jack drove down the deserted night streets, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel to the beat from the radio, a small smirk on his face. 

The ride to and from the job, on either side of the law, was the best part of any day. No creeps and freaks breathing down his neck demanding he smuggle this or hustle that. And no arsehole sneering at him behind his back and cutting him down in front of his face.

Just him, his thoughts and the pounding bass, soaking in the tunes.

All good things had to come to an end though. Before long he arrived back at the latest hideout the BCPD had set up, parking back in the garage, affectionately patting his car for the last time until he was next pulled into the department. 

Tonight was his last night as a "reputable" man before slinking back into the dank underbelly of the city. Worn clothing was left out, replacement "wires" were set aside and make up stocked to give him that dishevelled "detained by the cops" look. Bail had already been transferred from a "cousin's" account explaining his early release, and he made a call to the "boss" from a public phone, what few that were left unvandalised at least.

Everything was by the book, no suspicion at all on the suspect's account. It's not like he wasn't pulled up before, everyone in the business has been. He even sounded amused when he bullshitted some fake "good cop, bad cop" excuse, dropping just enough approved tidbits to make everything sound more believable and useful.

He had done it dozens of times, with no aside glances or mumbled questions.

So why did he feel so awkward this time?

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as those on his arms stood up. His body trembled, and he wondered if this was what most people who werent immune to the cold called a shiver. His fingers twitched as he paced restlessly around the halls, tapping against his thigh. His legs seemed to be just shy of running, never stopping.

And always, that vague sensation of... Wrong. Something inexplicable... something that didn't fit into the world, jagged edges clipping at the borders of what was sane and  real. It nibbled at the edge of his awareness, inexorably growing as the dull tick of the clock shaved off the seconds.

Within two hours of entering the supposed haven he was back on the streets, sticking to the back alleys, dark tunnels that only the worst of criminals had knowledge of. His skin crawled, like a thousand skittering ants were crawling beneath his clothes, and if anything the sensation only got worse when he slid into the trick window on the third floor.

He only lasted one hour this time before going on the move again. And again. And again...

It was sheer luck that he saw... it... before sunrise.

Maybe it was some innate sixth sense that drew his attention, but after crawling out of the last basement door he paused. The scampering over his back was the worst it had been so far, and he knew, without doubt, that something was close. The part of the brain that was still a tasty ape in a jungle of hungry monsters sat up and screamed, jolting its way up and down his spine, demanding he  _ **move**_ , to hide and to scurry.

He had faced crime bosses who reportedly ate their failed underlings. He had stared down the barrel of more guns than even the most seasoned of cops. He stared down  _that_ flame without flinching.

And yet he was never as terrified as he was now. His heart was trying to flee bursting through his ribcage, his lungs ached as he sucked in air, still complaining it wasn't enough. Every muscles in his body twitched, swimming in adrenaline for a fight/flight responce, and every single one of them was jumping up and down and yelling for the latter.

He couldn't explain where it came from... that resolve to shift his foot... twist his body. Raise his head. It was like something inside was surging up from some hidden centre, something warm and feather light. But whatever it was, it gave him the necessary nudge to focus his eyes and see...

It was a horse... only not. It was as if someone had taken the idea of a horse and sculpted it out of shades that were not meant for mortal viewing... It was... clumsy and elegant all at once, but it was off... as though they understood the basic idea of a horse, but forgot or misunderstood a few vital aspects. It was here, and it was not, and it was wrong,  _wrong, **wrong**_! It shifted while still, motionless while moving, it slid and it glided at it shouldn't  **be here** , and it  _stared_... Stared with eyes that were hollow and burning at once, and he could feel the heat crackle over his skin while  _something_ was being drawn out of him into those abyssal orbs.

The beast opened its maw and.. screamed. Or hissed. Or called out. Like someone had recorded the sound glass breaking and played it backwards and forwards and upwards and down...

Whatever had given him the burst of courage to see quickly faded, and Jack turned tail, running, wind surging behind him with every pretence shattered as he fled.

And it did not follow.

\-------------

Jack gulped the last of the coffee that found its way into his hands, watching the steam curl in on itself.

"North, I've seen some serious Shit in this job. And I'm not really one for... you know... religion. But Fuck me if I wasn't looking for a priest on my way here."

He glanced up at the two older men and blinked slowly to wash away the blurred vision turning them into coloured blobs, taking longer and longer to open them back up...

\------------

Aster had left with a slumbering Jack in his arms and directions to a fully manned safe house, leaving North to stare out the window, the Sun's golden rays dispelling all shadows to mere silhouettes. After a while he crossed over to his safe, unlocking and removing a thick binder from within. Names, photos and coroners reports lined every page, thick, red ink at the bottom of each.

Ichabod Crane - plunged headfirst into a river, despite no ability to swim - deceased

Gray Mary - ran straight into a herd to stampeding horses, despite ample warning - deceased

Hans Gretel - lit his own house alight from within, boarded all doors and Windows prior - deceased

Page after page of people dying in often quite brutal ways. All with two things in common.

Witnesses report that every subject appeared to be fleeing something.

And every coroner report highlighted the fact that the cadavers faces were "twisted into an intense grimace of extreme terror".

On the very last page was a single statement from the only "suicide" to be found before death, his words recorded as they were carted to the emergency room.

" _the horse.... black horse... He saw us...._ "

The same red text lined the bottom of the page.

**...subject died as a result of an extreme adrenaline rush, causing significant damage to the valves of the heart.**

**The subject's face has been twisted into an intense grimace of extreme terror immediately prior to death...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm pretty sure I know where I'm headed with this story! 
> 
> Tell me what you think of Jack's scene, I don't think I pulled it off properly, and I'd appreciate the input.
> 
> Once again, you get to decide the info chapter!
> 
> Figure I'd stick with a three option set up, and as always, feel free to suggest your own!
> 
> Choices are:
> 
> ~ The Udaan  
> ~ General History  
> ~ Most Wanted (suggested by Angle)


	6. Author Note

Hi everyone.

I think you've all noticed the lack of updates for a while. Sorry about that, but life has been a bit... Hectic lately.

Also, I'm finding it difficult to plan this story out. It was gonna be a cute one shot of a uniformed Bunny and a streetwise Jack, but looks as though I bit off more than I can chew.

If anyone would be interested in taking over this story (and frankly I'd love to see what someone can do with what's bee laid out), please leave me a comment below.

I'll give it to the end of July, and if no one has taken it on before then I'll officially abandon this fic.

Sorry to everyone who was looking forward to more chapters... I really wish I didn't have to do this.

Thanks for reading and your support!


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